The Gurkha's Daughter Read Online Free Page B

daughter—to keep me busy, like you do, I’d happily accept it and live that life. If I had a living husband, like you do, I’d attend to his needs and concentrate on making him happy instead of running off to some college.”
    â€œI know, Bhauju, you wouldn’t expect to hear this from anyone, but I like your life.” Sarita looked straight ahead. “I envy the life you live.”
    â€œWhy would anyone envy a widow’s life, Sarita?” Parvati let out a sigh. “I have nothing to look forward to—no school, no children whose marriages to await, no sons to look after me, no husband’s arrival at home to anticipate, no daughter’s well-being to be afraid for—and I must be among the most miserable women there are. I wouldn’t wish my life on my enemy, Sarita.”
    â€œSee, that’s why. The only bad thing about your life was the occasional visit from your mother-in-law, who’s now dead. You don’t have a husband who questions your decisions. You don’t have a child who frustrates you with his mischief. You don’t have to save for his future. If I were you, I’d use Daai’s pension money on pilgrimages to Benares, Bodh Gaya, Tirupathi, everywhere in India. You can pack your bags and leave for anywhere any day. You have no children’s vacation days to coordinate and no household budget holding you back.”
    â€œI am still a widow, Sarita,” Parvati said. “I am a Nepali widow. I get discriminated against. You’ll see that when we reach Birtamod I won’t be allowed to take part in any of the rituals. The world looks at us widows differently. When we haven’t been able to give birth, the stigma we face only becomes worse. I look at the colorful potey you wear around your neck and the thickness of your sindoor , and I get jealous. I have even stopped celebrating Teez. Why would I do that? I am a widow, you see.”
    The driver stopped the van and got out to relieve himself. It was obvious, however, that he didn’t want to smoke in their presence.
    â€œLet him smoke,” Parvati said. “He has to stay awake. He doesn’t need to hide from us. What a respectful young man.”
    Sarita checked if Sunny was asleep and then asked, “Have you ever smoked, Bhauju?”
    â€œWhy would I?”
    â€œNever at all?”
    â€œI tried khaini once, but it put my entire mouth on fire. Never trying it again. I am not going to ask you if you’ve tried smoking, but I have a feeling you have.”
    â€œYes, I have.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œSome girls in college decided to try some Hulas after school. I took several puffs, too. It relaxed me.”
    â€œSomething tells me that wasn’t the only time.”
    â€œNo, I smoke about one every day before I head home. It helps me think with a clear head. Only Aamaa knows about it. She doesn’t approve of doing it around Sunny.”
    When she saw the driver return, Sarita pinched Parvati, signaling that they should stop talking about the matter.
    â€œWell, at least I am glad it’s not the gori who has yet again put another idea into your head,” Parvati said.
    â€œAamaa has been a calming influence in my life. She’d never condone that.”
    They had barely covered a few kilometers when, a few minutes before they would have reached the Koshi Barrage, a flat tire befell them.
    â€œEvery time I have traveled this road, I have fallen prey to a puncture,” Parvati said. “It’s like the road has nails and needles growing on it.”
    â€œThankfully, the Maoists do tourists no harm, so once they see Aamaa with us, we are safe,” Sarita said with a yawn. “Aamaa is so important.”
    The Maoists have destroyed Nepal, he had said. Even if you escape the clutches of your cruel mistress one day, what will you do in this country? Join the Maoists? Carry a gun and shoot innocent villagers? Give in to